


Some Unholy War

by AnotherGallavichLove



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), AU, Blow Jobs, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Kissing, M/M, Prostitution, Roommates, Softy!Mickey, face fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-02-01
Packaged: 2018-05-16 17:15:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherGallavichLove/pseuds/AnotherGallavichLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hey” Mickey said, getting closer to the ground, reaching a hand out for the victim to grab onto. “Those assholes probably shattered your ribs, better be careful” He warned.</p><p>Big, green, bloodshot eyes looked up at him for a second, the guy seemingly hesitating before he finally laid his hand in Mickey’s, letting himself be dragged up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Me, My Dignity

**Author's Note:**

> I'm exhausted so the bigger part of this is probably complete shit, but I've had this idea for a while, so I figured I should get it out there.

The powdery snow was heavy around Mickey’s feet as he pulsed through it, his thighs soon getting tired with how much he had to lift his legs over and over again. The Chicago winter hadn’t been this bad in probably ten years. His nose was cold as fuck, but he did his best to pull his shoulders up and hide his face in the black knitted scarf looped around his neck. His hands were deep into the pockets of his big jacket as he silently thanked his sister for buying it for him despite the fact that he had complained over and over again that he was _‘just fucking fine without it’._

 

The walk from the coffee shop where he worked back to his apartment wasn’t too long, in fact, in the summer mornings it didn’t take him longer than probably ten to fifteen minutes. But now, in the dark, snow up to his knees and more coming down quickly, his body so cold that he was almost hot, well… that easy ten minute walk usually turned into twenty minutes of pure hell.

 

Mickey saw his breath in front of him over and over again as he exhaled, and he craved a cigarette to warm up his insides. He couldn’t bring himself to take his cold hands out of his pockets, though, so the drug would have to wait until he was back home on his cheap, old couch.

 

The snow was starting to come down even harder, the heavy wind beginning to blow, eating at the red bitten skin of Mickey’s ears. He forced himself to move his legs quicker and quicker, craving the warm embrace of the four walls of his apartment.

 

About a block away, his eyes drifted to a car standing right by the sidewalk, a guy leaning over to talk to the driver. Mickey didn’t think much of it at first, he just pulled his shoulders higher, burying his face in his scarf almost to the point where it was covering his eyes. Although, as he got closer, he frowned at how little the guy was wearing. Fuck, Mickey was completely enveloped in clothing and he was freezing his ass off. This guy was just in jeans and a thin jacket that looked as if it was made to be rain resistant. Not cold resistant. Soon, Mickey got even closer and put it all together.

 

“I have a nice, tight ass. Fifty for a blowjob, for a hundred you can fuck me” The guy spoke to whoever was inside of the black car.

 

Mickey rolled his eyes, focusing on the smoke his breath was creating as he walked past the people. Once in a while he thanked god that he didn’t end up a male prostitute. With how he grew up and the lack of support he had had, he damn well easily could have.

 

He sighed deeply as he finally spotted his apartment building, burying his face even deeper into the black knitted clothing around his neck, feeling as if he couldn’t get deep enough. For some reason, he could always deal with his feet being cold. His legs, his arms, his chest, his ears. But his nose and lips were where he drew the line. Whenever the cold it, it actually straight out hurt as he air hit his face.

 

Mickey stomped up the cement stairs, making sure to make the snow fall off of his boots in the process so that he wouldn’t have to wipe up a fuck ton of water up inside later on. He actually thought about shit like that these days, apparently he was a fucking adult or something now. He had to force his front door open, both with the key and then by tugging on the handle. With how little he was actually paying for a half-decent apartment, he could deal with it freezing shut on a day like this.

 

Mickey sighed contentedly as soon as he slammed it shut behind him, feeling the cold disappear out of his body little by little. He unwrapped the scarf and threw it to the side before toeing his shoes off. His feet took a few steps into the apartment, walking towards the couch. He took a break from unzipping his jacket to grab the remote, flipping the television on, feeling a little bit more as home as the light and sound filled his apartment.

 

The jacket was thrown over the back of the big couch before he turned around and walked towards the kitchen part of the open space, his hand landing on the handle of the fridge, something he did without thinking since he was used to taking his usual after work beer. Today, though, he decided that he definitely didn’t need a cold drink, he needed something hot instead.

 

Mickey ran his still cold hand over his face as he took a few steps to the side, quickly preparing a pot of coffee, turning the maker on before he walked back over to the couch to get his jacket, fishing out his packet of smokes from a pocket.

 

  
A few minutes later, he was sitting on the couch with his feet thrown up on the coffee table, a cigarette in one hand and a hot cup of black coffee in the other, eyes on some random cartoon that he didn’t actually give a fuck about. He laughed at the jokes anyway, happy to have a warm apartment to come home to. Not everybody did.

 

  
The walk he had to take to get to work at seven am the next morning was just as hard and cold, although he had more energy in his body so he wasn’t quite as suicidal.

 

Mickey went through with his day, fake smiling at rude customers, making lattés and cappuccinos and espressos - not that he really had much of a clue what the differences were. He was pretty sure that he had messed up quite a few times and never actually got the right order to the right person, but nobody had ever called him out on it. At least not so far.

 

Mickey quickly managed to consume a sandwich and a cup of coffee on his ten minute lunch break, but except for that he was working none stop, ignoring the pain in his legs and shoulders at standing and walking for almost twelve hours straight. Thankfully, at the end of his shift, he was in the back, unpacking the new bottles of flavoured syrup so he didn’t have to waste his energy on being kind to customers or even talking.

 

He hauled the heavy plastic bottles up onto the metal counter two by two, sometimes managing three at a time as he let his mind drift in and out.

 

“Fuck” He jumped, spinning around as he was startled by a tap on the shoulder. “Sorry” He sighed then, as he saw who was responsible.

 

“Sorry for startling you” His boss said flatly, her face just as neutral as her voice. Her back was straight, hair and makeup done up in a way that suggested she wished she worked at Vogue instead of a coffee shop. “Mickey, I’m going to need you to stay a few extra hours today”

 

“What the - “ Mickey cut himself off just in time with a heavy sigh, running his hands over his hair, feeling his body being drained of any remaining energy at the mere idea. “I’m just getting around to finishing a twelve hour shift, I’ve been up since half past five this morning. I’m fucking exhausted” He complained, not giving a shit about the ‘fuck’ that slipped in there.

 

He had never quite gotten the idea that she liked him - then again, very few people did. But despite his tattooed knuckles and sometimes crude language, he was actually a pretty good worker, if he could say so himself. Sure, he didn’t always know what the difference between a latté and a cappuccino was, but he tried. On top of that, he was actually nicer to the customers than some of the other people were, so why she had quite obviously singled him out, he didn’t know.

 

Yet Mickey always seemed to be the one who was asked to stay late, the one who had to clean up whenever somebody had spewed their guts out on the floor. Then again, those times were few and far in between, and this job paid a lot better than anything he had ever managed to score in the past, so he dealt with it. Even when he ended up with a fucking fifteen or twenty hour shift.

 

“I understand, but it’s only two more hours. Then you can go home” With those words, she turned around, her heels clicking as she made her way out of the shop.

 

“Barely gonna have the fucking time to go home before I have to be back again” Mickey grumbled as he turned back to the boxes, picking the last two bottles up and placing them onto the counter.

 

  
About an hour later, Mickey was finished with everything in the back, so he walked around to stand behind the counter again. Why the fuck his bosses insisted on keeping the shop open this late, he didn’t know. Nobody ever came in around this time anyway, especially not with this fucking weather outside.

 

Mickey sighed, dragging the stool closer to him so that he could sit down, barely holding in a moan at the feeling of not having to stand.

 

Fourteen hours was a fucking lot of time to spend on your feet. His eyes focused on the darkness outside of the big glass walls, not seeing much beyond just that - darkness. He could see some of the snow falling, highlighted by one of the only crappy streetlights that worked at all.

 

Mickey cringed at the thought that he would have to walk through that terrible storm to get home. Fuck, from what he could see it seemed even worse than last night.

 

He was completely alone in the shop, and his phone was out of battery by now, which was why he was starting to wonder how terrible it would really be of him to lock up now and skip the last two hours of his extended shift. Then again, maybe his boss would notice somehow, and if she did she would surely fire his ass. He couldn’t really afford to take that chance.

 

Mickey was just about to stand up and walk to the back again when something caught his eye, a couple of shadows outside in the darkness. At first he didn’t pay it much mind, but then the movements caught more of a familiar shape, and Mickey immediately knew what was going on. The muffled screams were so loud that he heard them even inside of the building.

 

“Fuck” He cursed to himself, and he was up on his feet before he could think twice of it. He had obviously bashed quite a few people in his life, but that part of it was over, and for some fucked up reason that he didn’t know, he felt as if he needed to stop this one.

 

More cries his Mickey’s ears when he opened the door of the shop.

 

“Stop, please!” The weak, shaky words were muffled, as if the person’s mouth was filled with blood.

 

“Fucking. Cheap. Faggot” Each word was punctuated with a kick to the victim’s stomach as the other two bashers focused on his head and crotch, kicking and punching, seemingly doing everything in their power to take the life away from the guy. “You think we won’t kill you, huh? Piece of fucking shit”

 

The words were way too similar to something Terry would have said, and probably even had at some point. Maybe that fact should have scared Mickey away, or made him at least cower down - maybe three years ago it even would have. But not today. Today it just geared Mickey up even more, and he used the element of surprise to knock two of the guys down at once, using nothing but his fists.

 

“Oh, what the fuck!” One of them screeched in pain while Mickey was busy taking down the last one, delivering three punches to his mouth that would surely knock out a tooth or two.

 

“You think faggots are weak, huh?” He thought that he heard himself growl. “Fucking take this” Kick. “Leave him alone!”

 

Despite the fact that Mickey didn’t know who the fuck the guy was they had been beating on - he hadn’t even had the time to lay an eye on him - he knew that he didn’t deserve to be bashed. Fucking nobody did.

 

Maybe it was because it hit too close to home, or maybe it was because Mickey just… had at some point during the past few years become a good person, but either way, he knew that he had to help him. He knew more than well what it was like to be on the ground, being kicked at.

 

Mickey kept kicking and punching and pulling until the men were on their final hairs, just on the verge of passing out. He sighed deeply, sitting down and tugging one of them up by his hair, forcing his neck backwards.

 

“You are going to get out of here and you are never…” Mickey trailed off, realizing how fucking dark his voice was becoming. “Gonna bash anybody again. You got it?”

 

“Yes, yes. Fuck, please let go” Mickey hardened his scowl, delivering one last punch to his cheek.

 

“Get the fuck out of here” Surprisingly, the men pulled themselves up and did just that. He looked after them as they limped down the street with their tails behind their legs.

 

Mickey started calming down a little bit, and he realized that he was wearing nothing but his thin black long-sleeved t shirt, the storm still going strong, the cold seeping into his very bones. His blood was powerfully pumping throughout his veins, reminding him why he had stopped fighting in the first place. The rush was way too addictive. Alas, to be fair, this had truly been an emergency.

 

“Thanks”

 

Mickey frowned as his attention was pulled back to the victim. He had almost forgotten about him in the heat of the moment as he forced himself to calm down a little bit further. He looked down at the guy, a little bit confused about how a grown man - or at least a guy in his late teens, Mickey couldn’t quite tell through all of the blood - could have a voice so weak and cracky. Then again, maybe that said a bit about how badly he was hurt.

 

The guy looked so tiny, so fragile as he forced himself to sit up a little bit, visibly wincing at the pain. His red or brown hair - Mickey couldn’t quite tell which in the dark and through the falling snow - was a complete, bloody mess on top of his head.

 

His face was so badly beaten up that he’d probably end up getting one of those nasty black eyes that made you unable to see for a couple of days. His entire body was shaking, and Mickey didn’t know whether it was because of the cold or the pain that was surely coursing through his body, but he guessed that it was both.

 

“Hey” Mickey said, getting closer to the ground, reaching a hand out for the victim to grab onto. “Those assholes probably shattered your ribs, better be careful” He warned.

 

Big, green, bloodshot eyes looked up at him for a second, the guy seemingly hesitating before he finally laid his hand in Mickey’s, letting himself be dragged up.

 

“You alright?” The brunet heard himself asking, right as he let their hands slip apart in favor of wrapping his arms around himself, hoping that it would help with shielding himself from the cold a little bit, it was a crappy idea because at this point, the only thing that could probably help him get warm was being set on fire. He wasn’t lying when he said that he couldn’t ever remember freezing quite this badly. His entire body was shaking, teeth chattering, just like the other guy in front of him.

 

“I - I think so. Yeah, I’ll be fine” The victim nodded.

 

Mickey supposed that that easily could have been it. He could have said ‘Well then’ and then turned around to walk back inside alone to finish his shift. But for some fucked up reason, that was in fact not what he wanted to do. For some fucked up reason, he heard himself talking before he had even registered the words in his brain.

 

“Hey, man, I work in the coffee shop right inside. Why don’t you come in for a bit? Have some coffee while I finish my shift?” Fuck. Mickey was turning into superman or some shit. When did he become the savior? He had always been the villain. At least in his own mind. Then again, those big, green eyes looking into his own may have something to do with his sudden rush of kindness.

 

“No, um…” The victim shook his head. “I don’t have any money. Even if I did, you don’t have to do that”

 

“You don’t have to pay” Mickey’s mouth run again without him having the chance to think through what he was saying. Then again, that probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference because he knew that he wanted to help this guy. Why? He had no answer to that question what so ever, but there was just something about him.

 

Besides, as he let his eyes run over his minimal - well, minimal for this kind of weather, at least - clothing, he realized that he had seen this guy before. Those jeans, that jacket. This was the prostitute that he had seen yesterday.

 

Maybe that would have had some guys running for the hills, but Mickey had always kind of felt sorry for people who sold themselves - he had never done anything about it before, of course. He had barely let himself realize that he did, in fact feel sadness for them. But this guy…? It was just… something. Something that made Mickey want to help him.

 

At least tonight.

 

So the least he could do was pour him a cup of coffee.

 

“Oh” The guy’s voice was just as weak as it had been a moment ago. Mickey wasn’t sure if that was because it hurt to speak or because he was insecure, it could be either. Or maybe both. “Okay”

 

  
“So. You think we need to wrap you up or you gonna heal on your own?” Mickey asked, putting the large paper cup filled with hot black coffee in front of the guy who immediately wrapped his hands tightly around it. His seemingly pale skin was red from the cold, and Mickey found himself wondering how many nights he had spent this way. If he even remembered what it was like to be hot anymore. He didn’t bring himself to ask.

 

“I’ll live” His voice was a little bit stronger by now, and he brought the cup to his lips, wincing as he hot liquid tore down his - probably incredibly damaged - throat.

 

Mickey should we wiping down the counters or writing a list of all the items that the shop was running out of, but instead he stayed seated opposite of the guy, hands wrapped around a coffee of his own, somehow unable to take his eyes off of him.

 

Maybe a part of the reason was because now Mickey could see that he was probably at least three years younger than himself, which would make him eighteen or maybe nineteen. A nineteen yearold, badly bashed because he’s gay.

 

It reminded Mickey way too much of himself. Maybe it was just that simple, maybe that was the reason he felt the need to take care of him.

 

“I’m Ian” The guy said then, eyes still on the white lid of his paper cup.

 

“Mickey” Ian nodded, taking another deep gulp of the coffee before he lifted his head, eyes connecting with Mickey’s.

 

“Why are you doing this?” For a second, Mickey considered telling him the truth. He even briefly considered talking about his childhood, how he grew up and that he was gay too. But ultimately -

 

“Don’t ask stupid fucking questions” He answered instead, hiding his smirk behind his cup. Ian nodded, and they were both quiet for a beat, letting the coffee warm their insides up. “Think I’ve seen you around before” Mickey stated a few seconds later, and Ian frowned for a beat before nodding slowly, visibly swallowing.

 

“Oh. So you um…” His gaze fell to the white lid of the coffee cup in his hands. “You… know… what I do?” He finally pushed the question past his lips, his eyes never meeting Mickey’s.

 

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it. Gotta do what we gotta do to survive, right?” Mickey decided to make it easy on Ian. Ian finally lifted his head, eyes ending up on Mickey’s, the green color showing nothing but surprise and confusion. “Hey um… Mind if I ask you something?”

 

The victim nodded a couple of times, and Mickey sighed. It was probably a bad idea, but he just had to ask. Fuck, Mickey barely felt as if he was going to survive the walk home, so if Ian was planning on spending tonight in some alley…

 

“You got anywhere to crash tonight?”

 

  
Mickey felt slightly awkward as he unlocked the door, letting them both inside of his apartment. He wasn’t too sure why he was doing this, letting a stranger sleep in his home. Everything had sort of happened so quickly, one thing had led to another, so to speak. But for some reason, Mickey also felt as if he was doing the right thing. Not just socially, but… for himself.

 

For another fucked up reason that he didn’t know, now that he knew Ian’s name and that he didn’t even have some crappy abandoned motel room to sleep in, Mickey was aware of the fact that he would feel all itchy, laying underneath his own, soft, warm covers, knowing full well that this guy was in an alley or some shit, freezing his ass off.

 

So really all of this came down to Mickey being selfish, doing it for his own sake. At least that’s what he told himself.

 

“You can take a warm shower or something if you want. I’ll find you something to wear, bathroom’s right there” Mickey informed his guest, nodding to the door right beside his bedroom. He tried not to make a big deal out of it, but he had a feeling that Ian hadn’t changed clothes in quite a while, much less actually showered.

 

“Uh, thanks” Ian nodded, and then he was gone to do just that.

 

Mickey sighed, running a hand over his hair as he went to grab a beer from his fridge, not caring about the fact that it would make him feel even colder than the wind and snow already had.

 

Once he had consumed about half the bottle of the alcohol, he quickly found a t shirt and a pair of sweatpants that might fit Ian, and he put the clothes right outside of the door before he plopped down onto the couch with a heavy sigh.

 

This had to be one of the best and worst things that he had ever done. Fuck, he still had no idea why he was doing it, he had never been the good guy, he had never been a fucking super hero or some shit. But here he was, a hooker in his shower that he wasn’t planning to sleep with and for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to regret helping him.

 

Mickey had gone through two beers and almost an entire episode of south park by the time Ian finally emerged from the bathroom, dressed in Mickey’s clothes. the blood was washed off of his face, and though he was a fuck of a lot taller than Mickey, the fabric was hanging off of him as if he were a nine yearold boy.

 

Mickey was forced to suffer a pang in his chest as their eyes connected. Nobody - man or woman, no matter what age - should have to live like that. People shouldn’t have to hook or live on the street, it wasn’t fucking fair.

 

“Thank you… For… Everything. You know that you really don’t have to do any of it, right?” Ian spoke as he took a couple of steps closer, setting down on the empty part of the couch. Mickey nodded, turning his attention back towards the television screen.

 

“Don’t worry about it. You’re gonna be fine” For some fucked up reason, Mickey felt responsible to make sure that that wasn’t a lie.

 

Mickey and Ian spent the rest of the night eating pizza and drinking beer, laughing at the lame and stupid jokes made on whatever sitcom came on. For some reason, Mickey kept forgetting how they had gotten there. It just felt as if he was spending a normal night with a close friend.

 

  
When Mickey got out of bed the next morning, his apartment for some fucked up reason felt quieter than usual.

 

Then again, since he lived by himself, that was quite obviously his mind playing tricks on him. He crossed the entire place to poke his head into the guestroom, fully expecting to see Ian’s passed out body under the sheets. Only, the sheets were flat, perfectly made in a way that Mickey never would or could have accomplished. The clothes he had borrowed were just as pretty, folded on top.

 

For some fucked up reason, he felt as he he deflated as he pulled the door shut and went over into the kitchen part to find some kind of breakfast to get his day started. He shouldn’t be upset, or course he shouldn’t be. He had helped Ian, and now he was gone.

 

One good deed, and no visible trace of it in the morning light. It should be perfect. But for some reason, all Mickey could think was _‘Where the fuck is he?_ ’. Why he was worried about a virtual stranger, he didn’t know. All the knew was that he easily could have ended up just like Ian did, it was all but a miracle that he had managed to find a job for himself. And if that had been him? If he had been… Ian, well then he knew that he really would have liked somebody to help him out.

 

  
Alas, Mickey went forwards with his day. He took a shower, he went to work, he fake smiled at the customers. Only, he wasn’t feeling any of it. For some fucked up reason, just by spending one night with Ian, his skin was starting to itch for more. Not more as in he wanted to fuck him or anything like that really, just more as in… Mickey really fucking hoped that the guy wasn’t dead.

 

He had never really been one to care for humanity like that in the past, so why this particular guy had somehow gotten under his skin, he didn’t know.

 

Mickey worked and he worked and he worked. Between his twelve hour shift yesterday and his ten hour shift today, he was all but undead, walking around, making coffee, wiping down the counter, feeling his eyelids begin to droop. All he fucking wanted to do was to go home and go to bed. At this point he had almost forgotten all about Ian, that was, until Ian walked into the shop.

 

Mickey was alone in the place, right at the end of his shift, and he fought a yawn as he lifted his head, hips lips parting as he got ready to say the scripted greeting that they had to use. However, he momentarily became mute as his eyes connected with the green ones.

 

Ian looked about as good as he had last night - meaning not very. His injuries were still swollen, his lip busted up, a nice black eye painting his cheek and eyebrow.

 

“Hey” Mickey said, and Ian swallowed, looking nervous. “Been kind of worried all day. You okay?” There his mouth went off again, spilling his thoughts without really filtering them through his brain first. Fuck.

 

“I’m fine” Ian nodded, his posture every so slightly more self confident as he took a couple of steps closer to the counter. “Sorry I left like that I just figured I’d been enough trouble” Mickey shrugged.

 

“Not really” Ian frowned, seemingly a little confused by Mickey’s answer, but he didn’t comment on it.

 

“Well… Thank you, anyway. That’s all I wanted to say” He spoke, turning around to head towards the front doors again.

 

“Hey” Mickey’s voice called him back. “It’s cold… You can stay over tonight too. If you want to” Mickey still didn’t have much control over what exactly came out of his mouth but at this point, he kind of just went with it. Ian’s eyebrows knitted together as he shook his head.

 

“No, no. You don’t have to do that. I’ve been fine for two years, I’m fine now”

 

“Two years?” Ian nodded, burying his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “You don’t think it’s time for a change then?” Ian chuckled bitterly.

 

“Mickey, if I knew how to change my life, don’t you think I would have by now” It was probably the most confident that Mickey had ever heard him sound, and he took another stab to the gut.

 

“You’re not a fucking failure, Ian” Mickey spoke. Ian stared back at him, seemingly incredibly surprised by his statement. “Look, I don’t… You seem like a nice guy, man. And it sucks that you gotta hustle on the street to survive, so… You need a warm bed then you can have my guest room”

 

Mickey wasn’t sure who was more surprised at his offer, Ian or himself, but either way, he didn’t take it back. If he was honest, maybe it would be nice to live with somebody again. He had been on his own for a long time now. Ian was quiet for so long that Mickey was beginning to think that he had had a fucking stroke or some shit. But then -

 

“Look, that’s a great offer, Mick. But I’d still have to hustle and I don’t even make enough to eat every day, so if you want help with rest or something, I - “

 

“That’s not it, man” Mickey shook his head. “You wouldn’t have to pay right away. I’d just… I just want you back on your feet, alright? Fuck if I know why I care but apparently I’m superman now” Ian chuckled, his head dipping, gaze focusing on his shoes. “I’ve seen too many guys like you end up dead. With how I grew up it easily could have been me, so… I want to help you. My boss has been talking about hiring some more help. I could talk to her if you want to” Ian frowned, lifting his head, their eyes connecting again.

 

“You’d do that?” Mickey nodded, shrugging.

 

“Sure. Besides, since my sister moved out of my place I’ve been kind of missing a roommate. And because when I woke up and you weren’t there… I realized that I really wouldn’t have minded it if you were” Mickey spoke truthfully. “Take it or leave it”

 

“I’ll take it”


	2. I Refuse (To Let Him Go)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who didn't know, the story title and chapter titles of this fic are all from Amy Winehouse's song Some Unholy War, so if you want to check it out, that'd be cool.

Mickey had for some reason thought that welcoming Ian into his life would be somewhat of a bumpy experience. Fuck knows why he had assumed so, because only a month after Ian had moved in with him, they had both developed somewhat of a routine.

 

The fact that they worked at the same place and a lot of the same hours made them able to walk together both to and from work. The time was usually filled by Ian talking and Mickey muttering things back every now and then.

 

The snow had started to melt down into the ground, and day by day the air got less biting, the sun even popping forwards to say hello every now and then.

 

Mickey had always been somewhat of a lone wolf, never feeling the need to be very dependent on other people, but he had to admit that he had missed having another person around during the time he had lived on his own. His routine had been the same for a long time; wake up, go to work, get home and eat. Then sleep and repeat.

 

Although it wasn’t much different now, having a friend to go through the routine with just made it all the better somehow, but Mickey had to believe that that fact that something to do with the friend.

 

In the beginning, Mickey had seen Ian as a broken, shattered male prostitute in need of a home and someone to talk to, not much more. Sure, he had never looked down at the guy, but at the same time that had been what he was. The guy Mickey was helping get back on his feet.

 

As time had gone on, Ian had somehow risen from the dead. His back had straightened up, his eyes were clearer and whenever he gave Mickey a smile, it seemed a lot brighter than it had in the beginning of their friendship. Thanks to the junkfood that they always bought each other, he was also seeming to gain some of the weight back which Mickey was extremely thankful for. The truth was that when they had met, Ian had looked no more muscular than a nine yearold boy, and he had actually been kind of scared for his health. The fact that Ian was doing so much better just with food, a bed and a job was worth anything.

 

Only… Mickey did have one problem.

 

About a week into living together was when Mickey had first started to consider Ian a really good friend. They would talk, eat, laugh and work together, something he hadn’t had in a long time.

 

A month - when Ian was truly starting to look like a healthy, happy human being - was when Mickey admitted to himself that the redhead was attractive.

 

Three months? Mickey was completely and utterly fucked.

 

  
It was a completely regular night, both of them sitting on opposite ends of the couch, containers of chinese food in their hands, eyes on some shitty slasher movie that neither of them actually gave a shit about. Mickey used his chopsticks to put some of the food into his mouth, his mind wandering. That had been happening a lot lately, it was as if he wasn’t all there all the time.

 

Usually his thoughts would go to Ian, whether the redhead was in the room or not. It was completely insane how three short months had gotten him so ridiculously and deeply in love with the man - and yes, by now Mickey had accepted that love was what it was. There was just no other explanation for the way his stomach fluttered whenever he heard his voice or saw his smile.

 

Another problem? Ian was so far showing no signs of feeling the same way - at least not that Mickey was picking up on and to be honest, he didn’t blame him. Not because Mickey looked down on himself, but because Ian had been through so much shit. He vaguely remembered him mentioning that he had ‘made it’ two years. Mickey couldn’t stand to think of how many beatings or cold nights he had had to suffer through, it was all just somehow way too painful.

 

So it was completely understandable that sex or even love was the absolute last thing on Ian’s mind right now.

 

“Yo, you want a beer?” Mickey asked a few minutes later as he stood up and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing some of the empty white containers with him.

 

“Yeah” Ian mumbled, and after seeing each other all but twenty four seven for three months, Mickey could immediately tell that his mind was elsewhere.

 

“You thinking about something?” He asked, throwing the white boxes away in favor of opening his fridge and taking two green glass bottles out. Once he turned back around, Ian had gotten off of the couch as well and was standing, leaning over the kitchen island as if he was waiting until he had Mickey’s full attention.

 

“Yeah” He finally nodded, their eyes connecting in the dimly lit apartment. “I think I should move out”

 

Mickey’s hands slipped a little bit in surprise and he had to be quite to tighten his hold on the beers. His eyes stayed on Ian’s as he swallowed roughly, his heart jumping up and down in the absolute worst way possible. He could have imagined a thousand things that Ian might have wanted to tell him. Him moving out was not one of them. For fucks sakes, it hadn’t even been six months. And sure, Ian was doing a lot better, Mickey was more than thankful for that. But that didn’t mean that he was ready to let go of him. It sounded clingy as fuck but it was the truth.

 

“I… What?” Was all he could push past his lips in his shocked state. Ian swallowed, his head falling slightly to the side as Mickey took two steps forwards and placed the beers on the kitchen island.

 

“Mick, I really appreciate everything, and I don’t want to lose you as a friend, that’s not it. But I just figure maybe it’s time. Wouldn’t you be happy to have this place to yourself again?”

 

“No” Mickey spoke without thinking. He dipped his head then, a small, sad, slightly embarrassed chuckle falling from his lips as his eyes connected with the floor. “No, man, you’re um…” He begun then, lifting his head, eyes falling on Ian’s again. “I’ve gotten used to having you around. You don’t have to go” _Please don’t go._

 

Ian frowned, straightening up a little bit as he walked around the island to end up on Mickey’s side. They both leaned their hips against the counter, facing each other, Mickey willing the butterflies in his stomach to calm down. This was not the right time. Actually, it never was.

 

Mickey may be convinced that Ian was he right guy for him but that didn’t change the fact that this was the absolute worst timing in the world. With how they had met and what Ian had suffered through before they had. Absolutely the right guy, but very, very wrong time. Just Mickey’s fucking luck.

 

“Really?” Ian asked. “Kind of thought you’d be relieved” Mickey tried to tear his eyes from the green ones as he shook his head no, but it was no use. Ian was too mesmerizing.

 

“No, man um… No. I don’t want you to move out” For a blink of a second he thought about telling Ian what the real reason truly was. It wasn’t just that he had ‘gotten used to having him around’ it was that he liked having him around. And not just that, he liked him. He loved Ian if he were to be honest, and as much as the guy he had been five years ago would never have admitted that, even to himself, it was the truth. And now he could.

 

Ian nodded, looking down at Mickey, only a couple feet of space in between them. Mickey knew that it wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be thinking about Ian like this. He should have the butterflies in his stomach to begin with, much less acknowledge them.

 

But here they were. Alone. In Mickey’s dimly lit apartment, nowhere to go for hours and hours and somehow, it just made that thing all the stronger. That thing that Mickey had fought for eleven weeks. That heart throbbing, earth shattering connection.

 

The feeling he got in the pit of his stomach whenever their fingers brushed, or whenever Ian laughed at one of his jokes. That buzzing, fiery feeling that told him that this… was it. There was no way out.

 

Maybe it was the small, subtle smirk on Ian’s lips. Maybe it was the slight glimmer in the green color of his orbs. Maybe it was even the way the shadow fell over him, enlightening only one half of his perfect face. Maybe it was even all of it combined, but it didn’t matter because the end result was the same.

 

Mickey swallowed, and then his feet took a step forwards, his hands falling onto either side of Ian’s waist, gently placed over his white henley. All of it somehow ended up in fast forwards and slow motion all at once. Mickey made himself ever so slightly taller, lifting his heels to stand more on his toes so that he could reach as he tilted his neck back, gently connecting their mouths

 

Their noses smashed together, making it slightly awkward as Mickey’s bottom lip easily slipped in between Ian’s, the fire in the base of his stomach starting up stronger than ever. For a second or two, Mickey was so lost in the kiss that he wasn’t realizing that Ian wasn’t returning it. As soon as that fact registered inside of his messy brain, he immediately pulled away, his hands for some reason staying on the taller man’s hips.

 

“Fuck” He cursed, dipping his head, his gaze falling down onto the floor.

 

Why the fuck did he do that? Mickey had fucking known that Ian probably wasn’t ready for anything romantic or sexual, not after everything that has happened. Not to mention the fact that maybe he just simply didn’t like Mickey like that, and that had to be okay. That was totally not the reason why he had helped Ian in the first place, even though he was now scared that that might be what it looked like.

 

“I shouldn’t have…” Mickey mumbled, eyes still on the hardwood floors in between them. “Fuck” His eyes were still on Ian’s hips for some reason, the heat flowing into his palms through the thin, white fabric. He wanted that heat directly on him, he wanted Ian. Completely and fully. And now he had not only spoiled that, but also possibly their friendship. What the fuck had gotten into him? Why couldn’t he just shut the fuck up and - Mickey’s thought trail came to a complete stop when two big, soft hands landed on either side of his face, pulling him up to meet Ian in another kiss.

 

For a tenth of a second, Mickey was completely still. Stunned more like it. But then - thankfully - he snapped back to reality, as much of a dream as it may feel like. His hands curled into fists, trapping the fabric of Ian’s shirt inside as he tugged himself closer, leaning into the more than perfect kiss.

 

Ian’s lips were gently on his, his hands still cradling Mickey’s face, making the whole experience a thousand times better as their lips stayed slipped in between each others, heads spinning like race cars and standing completely still somehow all at the same time.

 

It was a sweet kiss. No tongues, no pulling apart or going in for more. They were just standing there in Mickey’s kitchen, holding each other. It was so much more perfect that Mickey could ever quite have imagined it to be.

 

Finally - after probably a lot longer than a kiss like that should last - Ian eased them both out of the kiss, their hands still staying on each other, foreheads wavering close together, both pairs of eyes struggling to blink open. They didn’t want to snap out of this.

 

“Y - yeah?” Was all Mickey could push past his lips. For some, maybe it wouldn’t be so clear what he meant by that, but Ian heard it. ‘Really? You feel the same way?’

 

“Yeah” Ian confirmed, the whispered word bearing a slight tickle of a happy, amazed chuckle.

 

Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his own lips, his fists straightening out, letting go of Ian’s shirt so that he could slip his entire arms around his warm body instead, tugging them somehow even closer together, their clothed chests landing against each other.

 

Their eyes weren’t on each other’s. Instead, their gazes wandered over the other man’s jawline, the collar of his shirt, drinking in every little thing about him as they both attempted to make this all register in their brains.

 

Ian used his thumbs to rub small, soft circles on Mickey’s chin and jawline, drinking in the feeling of finally - after three fucking months of thirsting for it - being able to hold him like this. Have him like this.

 

  
The truth was that as much as he had liked Mickey from day one - and it wasn’t just because he had helped him make his life better either - he had never quite been brave enough to entertain the idea that the brunet may feel the same way.

 

Ian knew who he was. He knew that he was good looking, kind, all of that. But he also knew what he was. Ian was a former - not even former when he and Mickey had first met - male prostitute. And while he had never felt an ounce of judgement from the shorter man, he had always just… assumed that he could never like him because of that.

 

Mickey had truly seen Ian at his absolute worst and the fact that he apparently - for some reason - liked him anyway, it was just… amazing. And it made Ian fall so much more in love with the man than he already was.

 

“Ian?” Mickey’s eyes fluttered up to meet the green ones, nothing but peace and happiness on either of their faces.

 

“Hm?” Ian felt his stomach flutter as Mickey tightened his hold around his waist, tugging them even closer together.

 

“Kiss me” Ian snorted gently, his head moving up and down once or twice before he dipped his head, easily capturing those perfect, plump lips in between his own. A hum escaped Mickey’s throat at the perfect feeling, his grip tightening further around Ian’s body, both of them ending up so tightly pressed together that they were all but molding into one. Neither of them would ever want it any other way.

 

Ian curled his fingers into the black strand of hair in the nape of Mickey’s neck, his tongue darting out, swiping across his bottom lip, asking for access. The older man granted it to him immediately, parting his mouth, meeting Ian’s tongue with his own, the kiss deepening.

 

Ian’s large hands stayed placed around Mickey’s neck as they kept kissing, drinking each other in, feeling as if it was impossible for either of them to ever get enough. That tumbling in their stomachs, that buzzing in their brains, that burning in their entire bodies, it all added up to something that neither of them had had the chance to experience before. Although, they both knew exactly what it was.

 

Love.

Real and true, never-give-up-on-each-other love.

 

Ian pulled away from the kiss for half a second only to turn his head, going in from the left instead, their tongue colliding once again, tasting each other. Mickey’s eyes were shut just as Ian’s were, his lips working perfectly and eagerly against his, his hands grabbing at Ian’s back, fisting his shirt, not quite able to figure out exactly how he should hold him, what way would get them the closest together. Three months wasn’t a lot of time to get to know somebody, but he was already so fucking in love with this man that he almost wanted to climb inside of him or some shit.

 

Ian kept kissing the fuck out of Mickey as he flipped around, leaning back against the kitchen island so that he could slip his hands down to that perfect ass, kneading the skin through the thick jean fabric. Mickey hummed against his tongue, torn between pushing back into his hands and rocking forwards against his crotch.

 

Thankfully, Ian’s next actions made the choice unnecessary. He tightened his hold on Mickey’s ass, slipping one of his own legs in between the shorter man’s, giving him something to ride as they kept making out. Ian kept his strong grip on Mickey’s ass, pushing him onto his thigh over and over again, building up that wonderfully perfect tension inside of his body.

 

Mickey mewled into his mouth, his hands moved from Ian’s waist to his neck, tugging at the red strands at the back of his neck, rolling his hips, grinding onto Ian as much as enthusiastically as he could possible manage, his cock growing harder and harder with every movement.

 

Ian’s hands kept squeezing his ass, helping him with every single roll.

 

“Ian?” Mickey mumbled, not breaking the kiss. Ian hummed in response, moving his attention away from his tongue to his bottom lip, nibbling, sucking on the skin, making Mickey almost forget was he was going to say to begin with “You want to um… Bedroom? Or you want to wait?” His voice was muffled at Ian kept mouthing at his lips, neither of them quite able to get enough.

 

Despite what they were currently doing, and the quite obvious enthusiasm inside of Ian’s jeans, Mickey would never want to pressure him into anything. They never really talked about what Ian had gone through in his years on the street - if anything had ever happened to him. But Mickey could imagine that you don’t go two years as a homeless prostitute without a few bumps in the road. So if Ian wasn’t ready to have sex then Mickey would never be able to life with himself if he pressured him into it.

 

That didn’t seem to be a problem, though. Ian just tightened his grip on Mickey’s ass, tugging them closer together as he spoke into his mouth.

 

“Fuck you, we’re not waiting”

 

“Oh!” Mickey yelped in surprise as he was lifted up from the floor, Ian tightly holding onto his thighs so that he wouldn’t fall down. As soon as Mickey’s brain registered what was happening, he wrapped his legs tightly around Ian’s waist, covering his lips with his own as they moved towards Mickey’s bedroom.

 

Ian somehow managed to get them into the room safe and sound despite the fact that his sight was blocked by Mickey all but eating his face off, never able to get enough of this. How and why the fuck they had both gone three months of living together yet never doing this would most likely always remain a mystery.

 

Mickey’s hands fisted the red hair, deepening the kiss, their tongues sliding over each other’s, neither of them getting much air in between the kisses. It didn’t matter, though, they had never felt anything like this before. Not just the blinding passion, but the love. The happiness.

 

The kiss temporarily broke for a few seconds as Ian laid Mickey down onto the made bed, quickly crawling on top of him. Mickey felt way too impatient to wait for him to resume the affection, so he wrapped his legs back around his waist, his hands on the back of his neck, fingers tangling into his hair, tugging him down on top of him. He was completely and utterly craving the man. Craving every single small part of him. Craving everything with him.

 

Ian hummed, eyes falling closed as he gave into the kiss, his body completely collapsing on top of him as they kept making out, tugging at each other as if they were two fifteen year olds, just not discovering this part of life. And maybe they were. Maybe they were both just now finding out how fucking perfect this all could be when you did it with the right person. When there was not a single doubt in your mind that the person on top of you or laid out under you was… it.

 

The one.

 

As cheesy and as fucking pathetic as it may sound, it was the fucking truth.

 

Mickey groaned into Ian’s mouth, his heels pressing onto his jean clad ass, grinding their crotches together, generating some of the much needed friction. His hands slipped down from his neck, all the way down to his torso, sliding in under his shirt instead, feeling the perfect heat flushing into his palms.

 

Ian hiccuped at the wonderful feeling of having Mickey’s hands on his bare body, and he pressed one last deep kiss to his mouth before straightening up, straddling his thighs as he slipped the white henley over his upper body, throwing it to the side.

 

His original plan - not that he had much time to think right now - had been to go right back in for another kiss, keep everything going. But for some reason, his entire body froze, his gaze fixed on the beautiful man underneath him. Mickey was laid out, face flushed, lips parted. Big, beautiful blue eyes focused on green. His hair was messed up, thanks to Ian tugging on it. He looked so fucking perfect that Ian was completely mesmerized.

 

“What?” Mickey asked after a beat, out of breath,confused as to why their makeup session had just suddenly stopped. Ian just kept looking down at his, his head moving gently from side to side.

 

“You’re just…” He swallowed. “So fucking beautiful”

 

Mickey huffed out a chuckle that was really more like a breath, his swollen lips pulling into a smile. Ian grinned back, finally laying back down on top of him, their lips slipping against each other, the passion and heat easily snapping back into place.

 

Soon, Ian straightened up a little bit again, tugging at Mickey’s black muscle tee, thirsting for his skin against his own, needing the heat and fire to be even more intense than it already was. A small, barely there whine escaped Mickey’s lips as the loss of Ian’s on them, but soon he realized why he had pulled away and was quick to help Ian lift the fabric off of his body, letting it fall to the floor somewhere in the room.

 

Both men got up on their knees, the kiss resuming as they clumsily undid each other’s jeans, neither of them able to get naked quite fast enough. Ian groaned against Mickey’s tongue, torn between ending the kiss so that they could take their jeans off or just staying clad because it just felt too amazing.

 

Alas, Mickey placed one last, deep, perfect kiss to Ian’s lips and then they let go of each other, getting rid of their remaining clothes as fast as humanly possible, thirsting to be naked, close to the other. Within thirty seconds, jeans were thrown to the floor along with boxers and a pair of socks - Ian had never quite understood why people wore them inside.

 

Ian pushed Mickey down onto his back again, continuing the kiss, their tongues slipping over each other, their hands grabbing at whatever skin they could reach, kneading each other, completely unable to ever be satisfied.

 

Mickey wrapped his legs back around Ian’s torso, gasping when their rock hard, sensitive cocks brushed, both of them craving so much more. Ian’s large, warm hands slipped down his body, wanting to feel every inch of him. He stopped as Mickey’s thighs, unable to keep the groan from pouring into his mouth at how fucking perfect they felt in his hands.

 

He would be lying if he said he hadn’t admired Mickey’s thighs in the past. Especially in the morning when he was walking around in boxers and a t shirt, leaving them exposed. Thick and pale, sexier than any cock or abs Ian had ever seen.

 

“I love your thighs” Ian noticed that he whispered into Mickey’s mouth, his hands kneading the flesh, helping the shorter man tighten them around his body, their cocks ending up even closer together. Mickey didn’t say anything at that, instead he just moaned in appreciation for the words, his tongue slipping over Ian’s, the kiss intensifying even a little bit more.

 

Finally, though, Mickey forced himself to break the kiss, both of them out of breath.

 

“Turn around” He managed, eyes still partly shut. Ian frowned down at him. It took a second or two before he registered exactly what Mickey was getting at, but when he did, his mouth pulled into a grin, stomach starting to stir even more violently at the mere thought of it. He dipped his head down, capturing Mickey’s lips in between his own in a last, deep, perfect kiss.

 

Then he did as he was told, straightening up a little bit and turning around, his head ending up in perfect position to Mickey’s red, throbbing leaking cock. His mind was completely still for a second, body frozen. He immediately heated up when he felt Mickey’s hot tongue on the tip of his own cock, licking teasingly.

 

“Oh” The inevitable moan escaped his parted lips, his breath fanning out over Mickey’s begging cock. His eyes fell closed for a moment before he finally was able to dip his head, taking him into his mouth. At first, he only closed his lips around the very tip, moving his tongue around in circles, teasing him just as Mickey had done to him.

 

Then finally, he gave into the need, sliding his mouth further down the shaft, his eyes finally settling on being closed.

 

Mickey groaned at the amazing feeling, the vibrations rolling straight into Ian’s cock, his stomach starting to stir even more at the feeling, making him more enthusiastic as he started bobbing his head up and down Mickey’s cock full on sucking instead of just teasing him. Saliva gathered at the edges of his mouth, dripping down the cock in his mouth, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a shit, this was all too amazing. The weight of Mickey on his tongue and his perfect mouth wrapped around his own cock.

 

Mickey’s eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as he did his best to keep moving his mouth up and down Ian’s gigantic cock - how he managed to almost take it all, he would never know, but he did. He felt as if his entire body was in some kind of a trance, his head moving up and down, his mouth slurping around Ian’s cock, his cheeks hollowing as he did everything in his power to make his roommate feel as good as possible.

 

Moans and groans welled up in both of their throats, the vibrations pouring into the other man’s cock, making the entire experience a thousand times better. Ian found himself wanting to see Mickey sucking his cock, so he pulled his mouth off of him for a second, leaning his forehead against his pelvis, looking up at him.

 

Ian couldn’t see too much, but the view he did have was more than perfect. Mickey’s head was tilted back, eyes closed, pink lips perfectly stretched around Ian’s huge cock, cheeks hollowed as he worked him, slurping, doing everything and anything he possibly could to make this the best blowjob of Ian’s life. It fucking was, too.

 

“Fuck” Ian cursed, tearing his eyes away and taking Mickey back into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down at a steady pace, swirling his tongue around the tip whenever he got the chance.

 

Mickey’s hands had been resting on Ian’s thighs until now, he moved his right one up to his cross, pushing down slightly, motioning for him to thrust his hips, fucking down into his throat. That had always been one of Mickey’s kinks. If you were to ask him, he would have no idea why, but being completely wrecked in bed had always been something he had enjoyed. Whether it was a hand around his neck or a big cock, fucking down into his mouth without mercy, it didn’t matter, he loved it all.

 

Ian was more than aware of his size, which made him hesitate for a second. However, as Mickey kept bobbing his head up and down, pressing on his lower back, finally, he gave in, rolling his hips, forcing his cock deep down into his tight, swollen throat.

 

Two loud, clouded moans escaped both of their mouths, both men loving the feeling. Mickey just completely relaxed, silently giving Ian the permission to do whatever he liked, the permission to use him.

 

Ian hesitated with this too, but ultimately, he had to give in. His cheeks hollowed, tons of saliva and precise pouring over Mickey’s cock as he sped up a little bit, sucking him with all that he had as he rolled his hips again. Then again. Then again.

 

Until finally, he was fully thrusting his hips, brutally fucking Mickey’s mouth with everything that he had, huge huge cock forcing its way down into his throat over and over and over again as a fast pace, the tight heat way too much wrapped around him. Too good.

 

Mickey was in a complete haze, amazed at how good he felt, being used like this, especially when he knew that the person doing it would never want to hurt him, it somehow made it all the better. They would never be able to do something like this if they didn’t trust each other.

 

Ian kept slurping around Mickey’s cock, fucking his face, bringing them both closer and closer and closer to the edge with every roll of his body or bob of his head.

 

“Close” Ian pulled off of his cock to mutter. Mickey moaned in agreement, and Ian slowed his movements, giving the control back to him as they inched closer and closer. Mickey started bobbing his head up and down Ian’s cock again, feeling his balls tightening further and further.

 

As they came, their cocks were buried deep into each other’s throats, loads of come shooting into the other, muffled moans and groans blending with the white, sticky substance. It lasted way longer than an orgasm should, both of them letting go of everything, all the tension, all the heat. They just let go, giving into their highs.

 

Once they were both finished, Ian pulled off of Mickey’s cock, sucking as he did to make sure he didn’t leave a drop of come behind to clean up. Then he gently eased his cock out of Mickey’s throat, getting himself free so that he could turn back around, only to collapse on top of Mickey’s fucked out body.

 

“That was amazing” His breath fanned the shorter man’s sweaty collar bone, his cheek landing on his shoulder as they both did their beat to recover from the intense fucking session. Mickey just hummed, eyes closed, his arms wrapping around Ian’s body, tugging him closer. “You alright?” Ian asked, blinking up at his roommate, suddenly scared that he had hurt him.

 

A sigh escaped Mickey’s nose as he opened his eyes, looking down at Ian.

 

“Fucking perfect” He promised, and Ian grinned, lifting his head to meet him in a perfect kiss, his stomach turning just as much now as it had the first time.

 

“I love you” Ian was completely unable to keep the words from tumbling out of his mouth. He needed Mickey to know that. He was so fucking in love with this man by now, way more than he ever would have thought possible. Mickey’s hand slipped into the red hair, darkened by sweat, his blue eyes deep into the green ones, the eye contact filled with nothing but pure love.

 

“I love you"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, if you follow me on tumblr I fucking warned you all that I was feeling in the mood for smut lately lmao. Don't blame me.


End file.
